The Adjective Game
by percychased
Summary: Gift-fic for Samantha: Lavender has never really been into reading, but this girl has got her asking Madam Pince where to find a thesaurus.


**For Samantha for GGE 2015, January! I do hope you enjoy it **:)

* * *

The first note came at the stroke of midnight, just as she was tucking her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ away and preparing to go to bed.

It came on thick, good-quality paper in a creamy beige colour, the Muggle type that cost a pretty penny. It seemed to come out of nowhere - she'd turned to put her book away, and when she looked back, there it was, sitting on her pillow.

It was folded in half. She opened it.

_You are celestial,_ it said, in loopy, slanted writing, with hearts dotting the i's. Hermione stared at it for a moment, shaking her head. This was… crazy. They definitely got the wrong person, whoever sent this note - they probably meant it for one of her roommates.

Shaking her head and setting the paper on the nightstand, she closed her eyes.

(Across the room, the sender was grinning at her brilliance.)

…

The second note came in the middle of class. Actually, she had found it in the middle of class - it had been slipped into her Transfiguration textbook.

It was on the same heavy paper, but this time a pastel pink colour neatly cut into a heart.

It was the same handwriting, messy but readable - so unlike her own, which was neat, tidy, and ordinate.

_You are exquisite. _

Again, the i's were dotted with hearts. Ron saw her looking down at something that wasn't her notes and looked over at her, leaning over her shoulder to see what she was looking at.

"What's that?" He asked.

She shut her textbook, blushing - which made Ron even more suspicious. There was no way _she_ \- Hermione Granger, of all people - could have a secret admirer!

"Oh, nothing," she said, forcefully light. "Pay attention, Ronald, this lesson is important."

(Again, sitting across the room, the sender herself felt a sense of pride at the bookworm's blush. She'd never suspect it was _her_ who was sending her the notes.)

…

The third note came at lunch time, in the Great Hall. She was fretting over her Potions essay - was it long enough? Maybe she hadn't provided enough detail, Snape was a hard marker, after all.

Absentmindedly, she ate her bowl of soup, and decided to study during lunch as well. Ron rolled his eyes at her - "Can't you take a break, Hermione?" - but she pushed the bowl of soup aside and reached into her bag for her Potions essay.

And there it was, the third note. Good quality paper, in another colour - baby blue, folded in half and cut neatly in a square. She unfolded it.

_You are sublime._

There was something inside of her that told her that surely, this wasn't meant for her whatsoever - the sender must have sent it to the wrong person, this had to be a coincidence…

But, although she'd probably never admit it, she liked this attention, in the same way she enjoyed going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. It made her feel… well, special.

She tucked the note into her bag.

(Down the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, the sender had a small, secretive smile on her face. That one was clever, wasn't it? It was very much so worth seeing her eyes get wide and big when she unfolded it.)

...

It was almost ten o'clock when she was shooed out of the library by Madame Pince, who said she "quite admired her enthusiasm about studying, but unfortunately needed to go to bed herself," which meant Hermione had to tuck away everything she'd taken out - quills, parchments, textbooks.

Since the stack of textbooks she was carrying wobbled as she made her way toward the door, she almost missed the note.

It was of the same type of paper, again a different colour - a light, pastel purple that could be considered lavender. It was folded in half.

She set down her books and picked it up, curiously.

"Miss Granger, I'm very sorry," Madame Pince called. Hermione dropped the note into the bag and rushed back to the Common Room, anticipation eating away at her. She had to know what that note read.

Setting the books down on her bed and revelling in the relief that she got from putting the books down, she drew the curtains closed and ran her thumb over the paper.

She had never received this type of attention before and there was still the thought that this could all be a joke.

Hermione unfolded it.

_You are fascinating._

She ran her fingers over the heart-dotted eyes. This script was decidedly feminine, but in a world of magic, it could be anyone.

(Through a small crack in Hermione's curtains, the sender discreetly peered through. What a clever colour for a note, she thought. It may take a while, but a clever girl like that - she'd get it.)

…

She hadn't gotten one for three days, and although Hermione tried to put it at the back of her mind while she read Transfiguration, it was bothering her. She often found herself thinking of the soft colours and the heavy paper, the loopy writing in black ink. She imagined a hand writing it, thinking of her, and it was a very rare time that she felt extremely _special. _

She thought of people, tried to match the handwriting to a face: it looked like a female's writing, but it could be charmed. Parvati Patil, maybe, she always dotted her eyes with hearts. Lavender Brown always wrote very messily - it had been a slight irk of hers, as she'd always been extremely proud of her neat, tidy, and ordinate handwriting. The fact that someone could be so lazy and careless with her notes…

(To each their own, however.)

…

The next one - the last one - slipped out of her textbook when she was walking down the corridor, a week after the note before. It was on the thick, rich paper, this time lavender-coloured again.

The same ink-blotted, messy handwriting:

_Lavender would be a wonderful scent on you_.

Hermione folded the note quickly, stuffing it in her bag. That was… could that be an explanation?

Oh, Merlin.

_Lavender would be a wonderful scent on you._

What? She felt her cheeks turn a little warm at the thought of who the sender could possibly be, and just exactly what they were trying to imply. She unfolded it again, slowly, as if that would reveal something new.

(Little did she know, the sender was peeking from behind a pedestal, grinning to herself as the celestial, exquisite, sublime, fascinating, _beautiful_ girl turned pink.)

* * *

a/n - thoughts, maybe? :)


End file.
